The Young Miner | Page 9

morning about it," said Tom, resolutely.
"I'll be even with you for this," said the foiled thief, as he sullenly obeyed the boy, half-ashamed to do so.
Tom went back to his tent, aroused Ferguson, and the two took turns in guarding the tent of Miles during the night. Tom did not wish to awaken him, for he needed rest on the eve of a long and fatiguing journey.
CHAPTER V.
MILES SETS OUT ON HIS JOURNEY.
"When Miles woke up in the morning he found Tom beside him.
"Hallo, Tom!" he said, in some surprise. "This is an early call."
"I have been here half the night," said Tom, quietly.
"How is that?"
"I was afraid you would be robbed."
"Did you have any particular reason for fearing it?" asked Miles, quickly.
Thereupon Tom described his chance visit of the evening before, and what he saw. As might have been expected, John Miles was indignant.
"The miserable sneak! I'd like to wring his neck," he exclaimed. "Did you say he had his hand upon the bag of gold-dust, Tom?"
"Yes; I distinctly saw him attempting to draw it out from under your head."
"If the boys knew of this, Crane's fate would be sealed. A thief in a mining camp has a short shrift."
"You mean he would be hung?" asked Tom, in surprise.
"Yes, he would grace a limb of yonder tree, and I am not sure but it would be the best way to dispose of him."
Tom shuddered.
"It would be a terrible fate," he said. "I should like to see him punished, but I don't want him hanged."
"Then you will have to keep your mouth shut. Once let the boys get hold of what happened, and nothing will save him."
"Then I shall keep it to myself."
"I will see Crane, and let him understand that I am aware of the attempt he made," said Miles.
After breakfast he came upon Crane within a few rods of Missouri Jack's saloon.
"Look here, Bill Crane," said Miles, "I've got something to say to you."
"What is it?" returned Crane, sullenly, looking ill at ease.
"I understand you favored me with a visit, last night."
"Who told you so?"
"Tom Nelson."
"The young cub had better mind his own business," growled Crane, in a menacing tone.
"He did me a service in preventing your intended theft."
"If he says I meant to rob you, he lies!"
"Nevertheless, if he should make public what he saw, the boys would be likely to believe him rather than you," said Miles, significantly.
"Is he going to tell?" asked Crane, nervously.
"He has told me, but is not likely to speak of it to others, being unwilling that you should suffer the punishment you deserve."
"He is very kind," sneered Bill Crane, but he felt very much relieved.
"You probably owe your life to his kindness," said Miles, quietly. "He tells me you wish me to do something for you in Frisco."
"I've changed my mind," said Crane, abruptly; "I may go there myself, soon."
Miles smiled.
"I thought it might be something urgent," he said, "since it led you to come to my tent at midnight."
"I thought you would be starting away early this morning."
"Well thought of, Bill Crane; but it is only fair to tell you that I don't believe a word you say. I have one thing to say to you before I go, and you had better bear it in mind. If you harm a hair of Tom Nelson's head, and I believe you quite capable of it, I will never rest till I have found you out and punished you for it."
"I am not afraid of you, John Miles," retorted Crane, but he looked uncomfortable.
"You will have cause to be, if you injure Tom."
Miles walked off, leaving behind him a bitter enemy.
"I hate him--him and the boy too!" muttered Bill Crane. "If I dared, I would put my mark on him before he leaves the camp."
But Crane did not dare. He knew that he was in a very critical position. His safety depended on the silence of two persons--one of whom would soon be gone. He was not aware that Ferguson also knew of his attempted crime, or the danger would have seemed greater. However much he thirsted for vengeance, it would not do to gratify it now. He must bide his time.
Bill Crane was cunning as well as malignant. He decided to quiet Tom's suspicions if he could, and ensure his continued silence, by an affectation of friendliness. He waited till he saw our hero washing dust beyond earshot of any listeners, and strolled up to him.
"How are you getting on, Tom?" he asked, with an appearance of friendliness.
Tom looked up quickly. Considering all that had happened, he was somewhat struck by Crane's effrontery.
"Fairly well," he answered coldly.
"Shan't I relieve you a few minutes?" proposed Crane.
"No, thank you."
"It's pretty hard work, and don't pay as well as it might. I think California's